


In Which Absence Doesn't Make the Heart Grow Fonder

by T Verano (t_verano)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: 2013 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "Santa Lucia", Christmas Decorations, Gen, Santa Lucia, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: Blair's ugly battery-operated Christmas candles take on an unexpected task.





	In Which Absence Doesn't Make the Heart Grow Fonder

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "Santa Lucia"

Jim grabbed a beer out of the fridge and turned to gaze around the loft thoughtfully. Something was missing…

Something was definitely missing. Huh. Maybe Sandburg was giving him an early Christmas present — the battery-operated candles that had gone missing were ugly fuckers, looked like they belonged in the 'rejects' box at a garage sale. Not that Jim was all that enamored of the rest of the Christmas crap Sandburg had strewn around the loft, but those particular 'decorations' scraped the bottom of a very deep barrel.

He glanced across the room at Blair. "Do I want to know what happened to your fake candles? Something permanent, I hope."

Blair frowned. "I like those candles."

"Chief, they're ugly."

"They're classics, Jim."

Jim snorted. Only Sandburg could consider those candles 'classics.'

"Don't get your hopes up; we'll have them back day after tomorrow," Blair said, rolling his eyes.

"They went on a field trip?"

That earned another eye roll. Sandburg was going to make himself dizzy if he wasn't careful.

"Mrs. Andersson borrowed them. Her daughter and granddaughter are visiting — they got here last night — and she wanted to make a wreath for Ilsa to wear for St. Lucia's day tomorrow." Blair's hands were flying, shaping wreaths and God knew what else. "It's a Nordic custom, celebrating light overcoming the darkness, with a procession led by a girl wearing a wreath with candles on it on her head — which is why Mrs. Andersson borrowed the candles. Real candles are traditional, but —"

"Not so festive if your hair catches fire." Jim nodded. Still, it was going to be one ugly wreath. He was glad he wasn't going to have to see the thing.

"So don't plan on sleeping in tomorrow."

"What?"

"Procession, remember? Ilsa will be going from door to door early tomorrow morning; Mrs. Andersson's already let everybody in the building know."

"Tomorrow morning. _Early._ Dare I ask why?"

"It's the best time to catch everybody in, and it'll still be dark outside. They're going to be bringing everybody coffee and _lussekatter._ Sort of a household tradition."

Tomorrow morning, _early._ Jim sighed. With Sandburg living here, there was no chance he could just pretend he wasn't home. "Coffee, fine — but lussewhatter?"

"Saffron buns. Which Mrs. Andersson will be baking fresh very early tomorrow morning." Blair's voice was matter-of-fact, but his glance at Jim was knowing.

Because that woman could _bake._

"They'll probably bring along some _pepparkakor,_ too."

"Good for them," Jim said. As long as pepperwhatever was something that was also going to be baked by Mrs. Andersson's talented hands.

Not that he would need to ask to find out…

Blair's nose was back in his book. Jim waited.

"Ginger cookies," Blair said, absently, after he'd read a page, and Jim smiled. Never failed: Sandburg had information, Sandburg shared information. 

Now all Jim needed to do was persuade Mrs. Andersson that Ilsa could take the wreath — candles and all — back to Sweden with her. As a souvenir. For safety's sake.


End file.
